


Keta

by ruthmakesstuff (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ruthmakesstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders remembers his year in solitary confinement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keta

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Keta:
> 
> (n.) an image that inexplicably leaps back into your mind from the distant past.

_Everything around him is cold and made of stone. The floor, the walls, even the bench on which lies a thin mattress is stone.  
There is nothing else there._

Anders shakes his head as if to rid himself of the memory. He spent a year in solitary confinement in the circle, after one of his numerous escape attempts. His first had only been at the age of twelve – sad and homesick, he wanted to see his mother. But he was an adult now, and free of the circle for the time being. Why was he dwelling on this now?

_Food is slid into the room through a hatch in the door, like a flap one might have for a cat. He’s tried to squeeze through it, but to no avail. Light shining through it is the only way he has to know if it’s night or day – but the light is artificial. It comes on when breakfast is ready, and turns off after dinner. A rough approximation of night and day, in any case. It’s enough for him to know that time passes – it’s all he really has._

A wave of panic hits Anders straight in the chest. He tries to reassure himself that he’s safe, but memories are flooding him now, in increasing vividness.

_He forgets how to speak. He doesn’t need to. There was never anybody around to speak to – even the visions he sometimes saw in the darkness didn’t speak to him. He wished they would, sometimes, but that made him even more afraid. At this point, he was actively seeking out madness as a reprieve from the sheer loneliness he suffered._

He’s lying next to a sleeping Hawke, and he tries to speak to wake her, but the words catch in his throat. Tears jump to his eyes.

_The claustrophobia was the worst part. The room was so small, and at times he could have sworn the walls were closing in on him, ready to crush him, or the ceiling ready to fall on his head. He could feel his chest ready to burst with fear, but nothing ever happened – the anxiety was constant, gnawing at him endlessly. There was no relief for him._

He shakes her awake, terrified, and she startles. She looks up at him and sees horror on his face. She asks him what’s wrong, but he shakes his head. He is shaking, and tears are streaming down his face.

She pulls him down onto her chest and strokes his hair, making soothing shushing noises and reassurances until she feels him relax onto her. This isn’t the first time this happened to him, and it won’t be the last, but she knows that she will always, always be there for him. He will never be alone again.


End file.
